Page 23 of Hers to Command

She’s still dazed from the day, but she’s about to rally, I can tell. So I fuck her hard and fast to make sure she doesn’t have an easy time forming any thoughts.

It only takes her a moment, despite the way her head fell back for the first few thrusts. “This isn’t just about STIs, you idiot,” she yells, trying to sit up. But I’m still holding her knees up andapart, fucking into her, so all she manages is to push herself up on her elbows. Her tits bounce up and down and it is so damn hot I’m getting damn close.

“I’m not on birth control!” Anya yells at me as if that doesn’t bring me even closer to the edge.

“Good,” I growl, and then I lean down and suck her nipple into my mouth as I keep thrusting my hips, dipping into her core with my cock.

I suckle for just a moment, loving the way the pain shoots from my scalp right to my dick from where she’s trying to rip my head away from her tit by yanking on my hair.

“What is wrong with you?”

I don’t let go of her knees but manage to pull my hair free from her hands and straighten again, never once stopping the damning rhythm that’s making my balls tight with the need to burst.

“I’m taking what’s mine.” And then I hammer into her one more time and shoot my cum into her.

When I slide into bed next to her, I expect her to slap me, or to yell. A fucked up part of me is actually looking forward to it. Instead, she just looks at me, and when I wrap my arm around her, it’s as if Anya crumbles against me. Her sobs are quiet, but I can feel her shake against my chest. For all the fire and fight I’ve seen in her, this is different—this is raw grief. I hold her tighter, her tears soaking into my chest.

I stroke her hair, not saying anything, because I know there are no words that would make this better. Her father might not have been a good man—none of us are—but he was her father. And now he’s gone. And I know how it feels to lose someone you loved, however imperfect that person may have been. My father may have been an asshole, but my mother loved me and losing her tore something in me apart.

Her phone rings, cutting through the moment, and I feel her tense. She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand and sits up, reaching for her pants that are still lying on the foot of the bed. She pulls out her phone, but when she sees who’s calling, she hesitates before answering.

“Mikhail.”

“Anya... I heard,” Mikhail’s voice comes through the line, low and audible. There’s shock in it, but not much emotion. I suppose that’s typical for a man who’s seen his share of death, even if it’s his own father this time. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

She struggles against me for a moment to sit up. I scowl at her pulling back from me, but at least it allows me to see her face. Her lips press together, her eyes cast down. “It happened fast,” she says softly, contradicting the other emotions her face betrays. Annoyance is my best guess.

There’s a long pause. Mikhail’s voice, when I hear it again, is hesitant. “If you need me... you could come stay with Gianna and me for a while.” Now he sounds more certain. “You probably shouldn’t be alone right now.”

I watch her face closely, curious if she’ll take him up on the offer and prepared to put a stop to it. I’m not about to let her walk away from me just to turn to Mikhail. But all her face shows is hurt.

“No,” she says, her voice flat, but with an edge that makes me feel more pleased than any decent human being should. “I’m not coming to you. You weren’t around before. What makes you think I need your help now? What makes you think I’d run to you for help?”

Mikhail is silent for a moment on the other end. “I should’ve been there, Anya. I get it. But I’ll come get you now.”

There is no mention of him taking over his father’s position, or his support for Anya to take their father’s place. I might have doubted the fact that Mikhail had no ambitions to get his handson the power his father possessed in the past, but now I’m convinced. He really is Gianna’s lapdog, with no ambitions for himself.

Unlike Anya, I suspect.

Her eyes harden as she grips the phone tighter, her knuckles whitening. “Seriously, Mikhail? Now you want to help? When it’s convenient for you? You think I don’t remember how you left?”

“That’s done Anya. I’m still your brother.” There is an obvious frustration in Mikhail’s voice now.

“I don’t need you to swoop in and play hero,” she snaps. Yeah, this is the woman that walked into my office. Now that she’s released some of the initial shock, her fire is back, and despite its recent release, my dick gives a little bob as I listen to her put her brother in his place.

There’s a moment of silence as she fights to keep the tears at bay, but it’s clear the exhaustion of grief and the weight of everything are still pressing down on her. “I’ll handle this on my own.”

My pretty little Russian. So desperate for control.

“Fine. But there is going to be a shit show breaking loose. Gianna isn’t happy about the Brotherhood moving into the territory, and it looks like they are angling for just that. Apparently, more of Solntsev’s guys have arrived early this morning.”

That news has me reach for my own phone and shoot a message to Toni. He replies quickly, confirming the news. I’m pissed he didn’t call me right away when he found out before remembering that I’d sent him a text before dragging Anya into the bedroom that promised him a swift death if he dared interrupt me with anything less important than the city burning to the ground.

By the time my attention lands back on Anya, she’s just hanging up on her brother. She doesn’t say anything right away. Just stares at the phone like she’s trying to make sense of everything.

“Mikhail and Gianna want Dmitri gone.” She states it like a fact, rather than a fucking loaded statement.

“What did he say, exactly?” I ask, my tone sharper than intended. I curse myself for getting sidetracked when the conversation got interesting.

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